


Fables of the Reconstruction

by azephirin



Series: Dean/Tonks 'verse [6]
Category: Harry Potter - Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: 1000-3000 words, 1000-5000 Words, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Angst, Crossover, Family, Future Fic, Kid Fic, Marriage, Multi, Sequel, Siblings, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:48:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>You and me, we know about time.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Fables of the Reconstruction

**Author's Note:**

> [As requested](http://azephirin.livejournal.com/23480.html?thread=189880#t189880) by [](http://pxr5.livejournal.com/profile)[**pxr5**](http://pxr5.livejournal.com/), one year after [Belong](http://archiveofourown.org/works/50492) (and [This River Runs Red](http://archiveofourown.org/works/61109)). More thievery from REM for the story title (from the album of the same name) and summary (from the song "Low").

"Are you sure we oughtn't to ring?"

"Baby." Dean puts his hand over hers. "They're fine. Sam has a wand and the number for the restaurant. The club's on the Floo network. And Miri has lungs like a car horn. If anything goes wrong, we'll know and so will most of London."

"But nothing's going to go wrong," Tonks says decisively.

"Nothing's going to go wrong," Dean confirms. There's a pause. "And we're not going to call," he tells her. "We're not. Right?"

*****************

 

Tonks loves the Weird Sisters but can't stand the Howling Dead; Dean loves the Howling Dead but can't stand the Weird Sisters. So, really, it's fate that they're playing together. The club hasn't been open long—it was one of the first new businesses to move into Diagon Alley after the war's end, almost a year ago now.

A year since Dean died. A year since Sam's deal.

Four years until it's up.

She won't let herself think about this now. They're doing everything they can, and if nothing's been successful yet, well, they have four more years, don't they? She tells herself this almost every night, tells Dean on the rare occasions that he brings it up. They have four years, they have all these smart people, and even Mephistopheles himself is no match for them.

She wishes she could make herself entirely believe it.

Dean looks at her quizzically as they leave the restaurant, walking around the Seven Dials to Earlham Street, towards Charing Cross Road and the Leaky Cauldron; she realizes she's tightened her grip on his hand. She relaxes her fingers and takes a slow breath, then another. Dean's as much an Auror as she is, and much better at reading gesture and body language. She knows he picked up on her tension, but he doesn't say anything, just settles an arm around her shoulders. "T," he says, "for you, I won't listen to my Discman when the Weird Sisters are on."

It's an old tactic, but it works, on both her and Sam: harass and distract.

"For you," she retorts, "I haven't brought any eggs to throw at the Howling Dead."

**************

 

They run into George and Angelina at the club—of course. George is as much a Weird Sisters fan as Tonks, so it's not surprising that they'd be here. It'd mildly awkward, but mitigated by Angelina's presence—and, God knows, better than Christmas Eve, when Molly (despite her own resentments) was kind enough to invite everyone for dinner. Tonks had never been more thankful to be nine months pregnant and miserable, and thus possessed of an excuse to Apparate home early; she hasn't seen much of the Weasleys (except for Charlie, married as he is to one of Tonks's two surviving best friends) since then.

George is civil; Angelina asks delightedly about the baby. "Now that you've finally named her, you great berks!"

"You should come round for tea one of these weekends," Tonks says, surprising herself—and, judging from the level of his eyebrows, Dean too. "She's getting enormous."

"And her hair changes color about every three minutes, which is something to see," Dean adds, recovering quickly.

"Perhaps this Saturday," George says, and Tonks nearly drops in shock. "If you'll be home."

"I, um, I don't think we have plans otherwise," Tonks says. "Do we, Dean?"

He and George are looking at each other in a way that Dean (were he watching from the outside) would probably be able to interpret, but by which Tonks is baffled. Men have a secret language, she thinks, not for the first time. She's learned to translate Dean and Sam's particular dialect, but the larger form still remains something of a mystery.

Whatever Dean and George are silently communicating—or not—to each other, they conclude it, and Dean agrees that he and Tonks don't, in fact, have a previous engagement this Saturday. Tonks resolves to ring her mother first thing tomorrow, because she's going to need some help on this one.

"I take it the little one is at home with Grandmother now?" Angelina says.

"With Sam," says Tonks. "Not 'Uncle Sam'—he'll hex you if you call him that. It's the first time we've gone out and left her with someone else," Tonks adds. "And we've rung home only the once."

"I think that's very impressive," Angelina replies, lips quirking. "Have you enjoyed your evening out?"

Dean kisses the top of Tonks's head. "Apart from the fact that I had to listen to the Weird Sisters—"

"Oh, go on, you made me watch a group that dresses in capes and masks!"

"It's a terrible wrong," George agrees. "But Lina likes them, so—"

"So I catch you singing along on the Wireless when you think I'm not looking!" Angelina fires back at him.

"Kind of like T and Metallica," Dean says.

"Oh, shut it. Just because I like one song..."

The exiting crowd has made its way out onto the pavement. It's getting late—they should Apparate home and relieve Sam. "So we'll see you Saturday?" Angelina says.

"I'll look forward to it," Tonks responds, mostly truthfully.

*******************

 

They Apparate straight into the flat—they can both do it silently, so it won't wake Miri.

Which is a good thing, because she's asleep on Sam in the sitting room.

Oliver has come while they've been out, and he's sitting, asleep, on the floor in front of the sofa, leaning his head back against the cushions. Sam's stretched out across it, with Miri nestled into his chest. Sam has one huge hand spread gently across her back—it covers her almost completely—and his other arm is draped around Oliver, hand approximately over his heart.

And Sam, of course, is just as much of an Auror as Tonks and Dean are. Though they've come in silently, he's immediately awake. Carefully, he moves his hand to let Dean pick up his daughter. Miri doesn't rouse, just makes a sleepy baby-noise and shifts in her father's arms. Sam mouthes, "She was fine," then turns to wake Oliver up. The moment feels oddly private between them, and Tonks follows Dean into the nursery to put Miri in her crib.

It's only when Miri's settled under her blanket that Dean turns, suddenly, and buries his face in Tonks's hair. His arms are tight, almost constricting, around her. "We have to save him," he whispers. "T, we do. I don't know how we're going to do it, and nothing's working, and I don't know what I'll do if—if—"

She manages to free her hands from between their bodies, and she strokes his back, his shoulders, his hair. "We will," she whispers back. "We have four years, and the best wizards in the world helping us, and we will."

"If he dies—T—I just—"

She puts her hands on his face, pushes back a little so that she's looking at him. "He won't," she says fiercely. "He won't, and we'll all live to be ancient and senile in our rocking chairs at the Old Wizards' Home."

"How do you know?" His voice is almost inaudible.

"Because I'm not going to let it happen any other way," she says, and she wishes she were even remotely as certain as she hopes she sounds.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't find a way to gracefully work this into the story, but Miri's full name is Miriam Theodora Tonks-Winchester.


End file.
